NATO poetry

Dear Hunter

You wade through the turbulent delta,
listening to the echo of a distant alpha male wolf.
Leaving the water behind you enter the woodland,
my homeland.
The branches scratch your face,
the sticks and twigs snap underfoot, you freeze,
your heartbeat quickens and you hold your breath,
weapon in hand until the moment passes.

The mud and leaves are thick on the ground,
and make for easy tracking,
your boots leave footprints with those of other prey,
and your camouflage helps you blend in.
Your movement is slow and deliberate,
you creep and crawl through the brush,
you spy a sunlit clearing ahead
and move down wind.

The timid deer enter stage right,
a big stag with harem in calve,
you ready your weapon, say a prayer
and wait to make your kill.

It is now, my dear reader, that I explain the title of this poem,
for I am not a man nor am I prey,
but I live in the woods and watch them play.
This man has been thorough in his prep,
He's down wind of his prey, as am I.

I have tracked you by your footprints,
I have smelt you on the breeze,
I have listened to the snapping twigs
and I've watched you with ease.

And so, Dear Hunter, the time has come to take your best shot,
one less trophy for your man cave, because aware of me, you are not.
For I am a fully grown grizzly bear though you haven't seen me once,
I've blended into my surroundings and patiently waited to pounce.
You eyeball your sights as I eyeball you,
your finger hovers over the trigger, and
that's when I made my move
and ran with all my vigour,
but you heard me making my approach
and turned to face me with your gun,
your face of shocked panic
as you realise your chances are but none.

There is a stabbing pain in my chest
and snapping and crunching from yours,
it's time you became the trophy
to hang on walls and doors.
But I am one of God's own creatures and I don't kill for leisure
but I've got mouths to feed and so, I will take no pleasure,
In an eye for an eye, a nose for a nose, your life for my cub,
you won't have died in vain, oh no, you will measure up,
but in the past you've raided my larder
and butchered some of my friends,
so now it's time for me to claim
our long awaited revenge.

And with your dying breath, you grab for your radio
to summon some support, "Romeo.... Hotel....Uniform.........."
there's a crackle and a crunch as the radio dies,
and you gently slip away,
on your face for me to see
is the look of total surprise.

It was a cold November day when you came to my forest,
and as the evening draws in and the tango orange sun begins to rescind
below the treetops, sending golden shafts of light through my home,
the echoes of your friends drifting on the wind....
"Romeo!"